


Mrs. Coulter's Magical Night

by fanficfriends



Series: Happy Birthday [9]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin (2019), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Dating, Dominatrix, F/M, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Smut, Tinder, Topping from the Bottom, and marisa coulter DEFINTIELY wants it to be, asriel is dead tho jsyk, life is a game of chess if you want it to be, side Iago/Daemon, swipe right for love and also for your hot problematic faves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficfriends/pseuds/fanficfriends
Summary: Mrs. Coulter goes on a Tinder date with Jafar. Things get steamy.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Jafar
Series: Happy Birthday [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066082
Kudos: 2





	Mrs. Coulter's Magical Night

“Worthless. All these men are worthless.” Mrs. Coulter vented as she swiped left, left, left. She had abandoned Lord Arsiel’s lifeless body in the abyss just a few days ago, and had fought her way to this new world, that terrible Will’s world, to start anew. Her heart panged with the grief of loss: her power within the Magisterium, her love,  _ Lyra _ . All she beloved in life was gone, and here she was, alone.

No matter, if anyone can start her life anew, surely it is  _ the _ Marisa Coulter. And what better world than that dreadful Will’s, where women can be doctors and government officials. This world is no match for Marisa Coulter.

Still, she learned early on in life, that men easily become unwitting servants to someone of her prowess and resolve. Perhaps it was worth taking a look at the local landscape, to see who was willing to serve.

“So far, these men are imbeciles.” Mrs. Coulter exploded, chucking her phone onto the sofa and storming away.

Her golden monkey daemon, feeling left out per usual, jumped over to investigate. As he opened her Tinder, he noticed a profile he was sure she would find intriguing. Jafar, 34. “In search of a magic lamp.” For one, this man seemed to share a love of power. And for another, he had a daemon.

Ever desperate to earn Mrs. Coulter’s approval, her daemon swiped right. It was a match!

Soon, Mrs. Coulter returned, with a glass of wine and a heavy sigh. She picked up her phone, and noticed her daemon had been swiping for her. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT MESSING WITH MY PHONE” she screamed, as he retreated into a corner. She sent her match an exasperated message: “What do you want?”

His response made her heart skip a beat: “Power.”

Intrigued, she sent back, “Tell me more.” And when he slyly suggested that night, over dinner, she took a leap of faith and decided to give him a chance. Especially since that dinner was at the Sultan’s palace.

\----------

Mrs. Coulter arrived at dinner at 7:07, fashionably late, and annoyed that her daemon had insisted on coming along in an oversized handbag. The servants ushered her to Jafar’s private dining room, where he awaited, with an enormous feast.

The conversation went splendidly. As Jafar ranted on and on about this magical lamp that could grant him three wishes, Mrs. Coulter schemed how to get this palace—and the lamp—for herself. This man would be of use, after all. And, she admitted, he did have an amazing moustache.

Then, she looked down, and her purse was empty. Her daemon had wandered away! Jafar noticed her momentary crack in her facade, and grinned, knowingly. He gestured to the far end of the dining room, near the entrance to his bedchamber, where her daemon was nuzzling some kind of parrot.

“My daemon’s name is Iago,” Jafar murmured, in a deep, seductive voice. “What’s yours?”

Mrs. Coulter, seeing her chance, responded, “He doesn’t matter. You do.” And pulled Jafar into the bedchamber.

Mrs. Coulter was familiar with the art of pulling off robes. Jafar’s robes were not too different from those worn by the officials of the Magisterium. “My, my,” he whispered, “you’re good.”

“Then prepare yourself, because we haven’t even begun.” Mrs. Coulter slowly, seductively, slipped off her dress, then pushed Jafar down onto the bed. He tried to tumble over her to get on top, but she held him down firmly, and hissed, “Stay down,  _ I’m the top. _ ”

Jafar stroked her locks of hair that had come untangled from her neat, careful bun. He pulled her closer, and she began thrusting, faster, faster, faster. After easily an hour, the two collapsed, exhausted, and she big spoon hugged Jafar as they blissfully drifted into slumber.

\-----

Mrs. Coulter awoke the next morning in a daze. As she glanced around the room, this unfamiliar room, the events of the night slowly came back to her. “Good,” she thought to herself, “the game has begun.”


End file.
